


isolated systems

by heartsfilthylesson



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4795094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsfilthylesson/pseuds/heartsfilthylesson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of (mostly) unrelated tumblr ask box ficlets</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: scully has bruises which causes questions to arise regarding her and mulder's relationship state but scully has to awkwardly explain that they're sex bruises

“Dana.” There’s a strange expression on her mother’s face, concern and something Scully can’t immediately name. “Please sit.”

She slides a glass of homemade eggnog toward her and folds her arms across her chest.  _Anger,_  Scully thinks, her mother is angry. She knits her eyebrows and tries to remember the last time her mother seemed this upset. Maggie Scully is usually so calm, so even-tempered she can’t –

“Sorry I’m late.” Bill walks into the kitchen brushing off fresh snow of his navy blue jacket. He drops a few shopping bags near the door. “Where’s Mulder?”

“He’s in the basement with Charlie,” Maggie replies and motions for him to sit with them. Bill shakes his head as he takes off his scarf.

“What’s happening?” Scully watches her brother pour himself a glass of eggnog. He adds more scotch to the already strong beverage and takes a long sip. “Bill?”

He shakes his head. “Go ahead, mom.”

“Dana, we’re so glad you’re here for Christmas.”

Though they don’t seem very happy now, the visit has gone much better than she expected. Bill has been pleasant enough and Mulder and Charlie have been spending a lot of time together. “Me too.”

“But we’re a little concerned.” She clears her throat twice, her gaze fixed on the wooden table. “You said things are good with Mulder but Dana…”  Her mother sighs and looks up, her eyes watery.

“Dana,” Bill cuts in, setting his cup down on the counter with too much force. “Does he hit you?”

Scully blinks, confused. “What?”

“You’re all bruised.” _Shit_

“Oh.” Scully presses her lips into a tight line, fingers rubbing her slightly chafed wrists. She remembers the rope and Mulder’s weight on her and how she had to convince him it’s what she wanted. Heat works its way from her chest to her neck to her cheeks until her face is nearly as red as hair. “That.”

They both give her an incredulous look but it’s her mother who speaks next. “What do you mean that?”

This is more awkward than the time Charlie caught her making out with her roommate Claire. She finishes her drink in one gulp and licks her lips. “Look,” she starts but pauses, uncertain. A moment passes and, realising there is no easy to way say what she has to say, she  _just_  says it. “They’re not that kind of bruises.”

Her mother stares at her blankly, very obviously lost, while she watches understanding light across Bill’s face in a flush that matches her own. Damn fair Irish skin.

“What do you–” Maggie Scully starts and then her eyes widen and her hand goes to her mouth.“ _Oh_. Oh, Jesus.”

They’re supposed to spend two more nights at Bill’s. Scully shrugs and hopes they can reschedule their flight. “Can I have more eggnog?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @ drbedeliadumaurier.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully finds out she's pregnant before Mulder leaves in Requiem

She stares at the paper between her hands, the words and numbers blending and blurring until they almost disappear before her eyes. It can’t be real. She can’t be– **  
**

“Scully?” Mulder presses a mug of coffee into her hands and sits beside her on the sofa. “Feeling better?”

She wants to cry and she wants to scream because this can’t be real. She can’t be pregnant. But she is: her hCG levels are high and she had them run the test be run twice. It could be a trap, part of some elaborate plan by men who lurk in shadows and seek to hurt her, hurt them. She half-wonders if Mulder would agree and finds she already knows the answer. The idea is enough to make her laugh, low and dry and mirthless. Mulder stares at her, concern etched in the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yes,” she replies with a smile that’s too tight and too small to be real. She folds the lab results twice and sets it on the small table beside the coffee she won’t drink. “I’m fine.”

The hormone levels could have been altered but, irregular as it’s been since abduction and cancer and conspiracies, Scully can’t remember the date of her last period.

* * *

In Bellefleur, shock and dread give way to anticipation, to delight almost. She holds Theresa Nemman’s baby and remembers the one growing inside her, wonders if it will be a boy with Mulder’s nose, taller than her before he turns eleven, or a girl with her hair and eyes and his irrepressible enthusiasm. She needs to tell him.

Beside her in a near-stranger’s living room, Mulder seems both somber and hopeful. He reaches for her hand and Scully knows his thoughts are filled with stolen ova and failed IVF and the child she lost and the one he’s not aware she’ll have. She needs to tell him.

* * *

She comes to his room light-headed and shivery and uncertain but full of joyful expectancy.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and ushers her inside. “You look sick”

They sit facing each other, her smaller hands in his, thumbs stroking the thin skin of her wrist.

“I’m cold and dizzy,” she tells him, her gaze fixed on the water stained wallpaper behind him. “But I’m not sick.”

“You sure?”

She brings her eyes back to his face. “I’m sure.”

Mulder squeezes her fingers and takes a deep breath, mouth halfway open to refute the truthfulness of her statement.  Scully speaks before he can. “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head in obvious incredulity. It’s almost comical: the believer turned sceptic. “What?”

“I’m pregnant,” she repeats and tastes the salt of tears when she licks her lips.

A moment passes and then Mulder smiles, so bright and so happy and so earnest it’s almost hard to look at. He does not ask how.  

“You’re pregnant.” He drapes his arms about her trembling shoulders and kisses her damp cheek, buries his nose in her hair.

“Yes,” she says, face against his chest, and thinks of baby names.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mulder believes memes are involved in an x-file and Scully thinks the whole thing is dumber than all the alien stuff.

“Scully,” he says without taking his eyes off his mobile, their pizza cooling on the coffee table. Sometimes she misses his slideshows because they never interrupted dinner. “Look at this.”

It’s a poorly drawn frog, both human-like and not, with a glass of red wine in its hand. “What’s this?”

The corner of Mulder’s lips curve in one of those I-thought-you’d-never-ask smiles. Scully already regrets it. “It’s a Rare Pepe.”

“A what?” She picks a single black olive from the open box and bites it.

“A meme,” Mulder replies like she should have known.

“Mulder,” she warns. .

“It’s an internet thing,” he pauses and wipes the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “You know those pictures Tara posts on Facebook? The ones with the yellow cartoons?”

Scully rolls her eyes because they’re never funny and she hates them, she hates Facebook and everything her sister-in-law tags her in. Her mother, now in San Diego with Bill and his family, is the only reason she hasn’t deleted it yet. “Right.”

“Well, I think they’re using them to communicate.” He glances at the last slice of pizza and back at her. She shakes her head and he takes it without a napkin.

“I don’t understand.”

“The people who have been disappearing,” he says through a mouthful of vegetables and cheese.

She smacks her hand against her thigh and the plate balanced on her lap tumbles to the floor. It lands on the carpet with muffled thud. It’s somehow worse than she expected. “Mulder, that’s ridiculous.”

“Scully.” He wipes his greasy fingers on his fleece trousers and swipes across the screen of his iPhone. “I have a slideshow.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully gets drunk

“I’m little drunk, “ Scully says much louder than she needs to. The bartender shoots them an amused look and shakes his head. _Lightweight_ , he mutters good-naturedly. Mulder is unable to keep from laughing. 

Scully tilts her head, her furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips making her seem almost sober. She folds her arms across her chest and leans forward in the barstool.“What?” 

“Nothing,” he says, motioning for the bill

_“Mulder.”_ She sounds quite serious but the effect dies the moment she knocks over what remains of her cherry vodka sour. “Oops,” she says before bursting into a fit of giggles.

He wipes at the wet stains on her jeans with a cocktail napkin. “We’re going home, G-woman.” 

“But I haven’t finished my drink.” She stares at the empty glass on the counter with an adorably confused expression. “Where’s my drink, Mulder?” 

“You spilled it,” he tells her with a smile and a shrug. 

“Did not.” Her words are slightly slurred and her bright, goofy grin shows a little gum. “Must be an X-File.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Scully!” Mulder calls her in a singsong voice from their bedroom. His tone tells her that whatever he wants can’t be good. “Scully!” **  
**

She sighs and steps out of the bathroom pressing a towel to the ends of her damp hair. “What?”

He’s sitting crosslegged on the bed, both their iPads in front of him. They have matching covers: blue-black with a couple of reticulas making funny faces –his in a hideous shade of pink, hers in a dreadfully bright green. Mulder had them custom made for his birthday. It would be endearing if it weren’t so embarrassing. She never takes it out of the house.

“I saw something interesting” he says, crooking his pointer finger and patting the spot beside him. “Come.”

Mulder drapes an arm around her shoulder. He clears his throat. “Today’s spiritual journey feeds your imagination and nourishes your soul,” he reads, his voice flat but struggling to keep himself from smiling.

Reading her horoscope is a habit she picked up from Missy, one she kept even after her sister’s untimely death and one she was able to hide from Mulder. Until today, at least. He will never let this go. 

“Astrology?” Mulder keeps his not-quite-so-sombre expression for another short moment before bursting into laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes and waving a hand dismissively and exasperatedly.”Whatever.”

“Not whatever.” He scrolls down the page until he finds his own sign. “Let’s see what mine says.”

Scully shrugs. She already read his this morning.

“Libra, today you will kiss a short redhead,” he says and presses his mouth to hers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully talks to Mulder about her sexuality.

“I still can’t believe you’ve had bull testicles, Scully.” Mulder makes a disgusted noise as he takes off his socks. They fall somewhere near the foot of the bed.

Scully shrugs. “I spent a weekend here with Clarice when I was in the academy. One of her cousins dared me.”

“Starling?”  The old motel bed makes a horrible sound when he lies down.“I didn’t know you were close.”

The humid Montana heat is nearly as unbearable as it was during that visit. She remembers bickering over her ridiculous scrunchies with Clarice and wishes her hair were long enough to tie up. “Close enough,” Scully replies, taking off her sweat-stained suit jacket. “We were together for awhile.”

He sits up so quickly he nearly falls off the bed. “Together?”

“Together.” She kicks his dirty socks closer to his shoes and sits beside him, legs folded beneath her.

“You never…” he tilts his head, eyes on her as she fans the back of her neck with one hand. “Together, huh?”

“You never asked.”

“Can I ask now?” He moves closer behind her, blows a puff of air on her damp skin. She shudders.

“Yeah,” she tells him, leaning back into his chest.

“Who was your first?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully humours Mulder by attending a UFO convention with him, and she slowly begins to enjoy herself (which she tries to hide).

With hair clinging to her face in the damp, oppressive heat, the five minute walk from their rental (a bright red Camry because Scully requested  _anything_  but a Taurus) feels hours long. She wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand and glares at Mulder from behind horn-rimmed sunglasses.

“We’re here, Scully,” he says, eyes bright with unbridled excitement, as he hands their tickets to a young woman by the entrance. Scully clocks the design on her faded black t-shirt and shakes her head: I want to believe.  _And I want to go home_ , Scully thinks but does not say.

She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head. “At least there’s AC,” she mutters and follows him inside.

They’re in the first stand when a tall, balding man she doesn’t recognise approaches them. Mulder narrows his eyes before recognition settles across his features. Then, delight. “Gomez!”

Gomez, she finds out after they hug for what seems like an uncomfortably long time, is an old friend from Oxford.

“A parapsychologist,” Mulder offers, listing a slew of qualifications that, even after two decades filled with strange phenomena and stranger people, sound ridiculous to her ears.

He doesn’t seem confused when she introduces herself as Mulder’s partner, simply smiles and shakes her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Scully.” He turns to Mulder and slaps his shoulder. “There’s something you’d love to see.”

Mulder gives her a questioning look. It’s the perfect opportunity to sit down in some secluded corner and catch up on her reading. She nods. “I’ll wait here.”

“I won’t be long.” He presses his mouth against hers, brief and chaste but still an unusual public display for the two of them.

Twenty minutes later, her favourite character is dead and Mulder still hasn’t returned. Deciding to look for him, she stuffs her phone into her purse. She reads through the brochure in her hand and figures out where to find him but one of the tables catches her attention.

Small watercolours depicting reticulans with flower crowns and framed, embroidered quotes about abductions and David Bowie. They’re ridiculous and charming so she buys one of each.

By the time she finds Mulder–or, rather, by the time he finds her, engaged in conversation with a heavily tattooed, blue-haired man with a fascinating abduction story,– there are three bags full of unnecessary things in her hands.

“Scully?” He looks at the man and then back at her face. “Did I take too long?”

“Not at all.” She waves a quick goodbye to her new acquaintance and nudges Mulder to walk along.

Later, during a lengthy conference that isn’t quite as boring as she expected, Mulder leans closer to her. “You’re having fun,” he whispers, his mouth too close to her ear.

She only gives him a sideways glance so he repeats himself. 

“Mulder, stop.” 

“Just admit it.” He says it again and again and again. By the seventh time, she sighs and shifts to face him.

“Mulder.” She digs her pointer finger into his shoulder until he moves away. “I’m trying to listen to something.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MSR reuniting after their revival breakup.

She closes her fist around the kitchen door key until its jagged edges dig into the skin of her palm. There are too many keychains –all little gifts from Mulder, all vestiges of a different life– and they rattle against each other and against the doorknob as she slides the key in. She half-hopes the lock won’t click but it does and she’s inside and it’s too late to turn back.

Mulder sits at the table, a chipped mug and a piece of toast in front of him, a folded newspaper between his hands. “Hey, Scully,” he says like she never left, like it hasn’t been weeks since he last saw her.

She stays near the counter, spine straight and chin tilted, and watches him take the dirty dishes to the sink.“You didn’t change the locks.”

He moves toward her, stands much closer than he needs to and she almost laughs because she missed that, she missed him. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know,” she tells him in a voice that is too small and too cracked to be hers. It’s a lie, though, because she does know: she left because she had no choice but he should hate her, he should never want to see her again.  They were supposed to do this together. 

Scully wants to ask why he’s not angrier and if he’s fixed the downstairs bathroom. “Mulder,” she starts and he smiles and brushes a strand of hair that’s too light and too wavy away from her face. She wants to ask if he still loves her but he wraps his arm around her and presses his lips to her temple before she can speak again.

“Welcome home.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: drunk Mulder

“I’m not drunk,” Mulder says, nearly stumbling down the porch steps. He manages to grasp the frozen railing to steady himself and flashes her a triumphant, drunken grin. “See?”

“Sure,” she tells him with a roll of her eyes. “Fine.”

“Don’t  _sure fine_ me, G-woman.” His effort to sound indignant is thwarted by a snort of laughter. “Besides, you’re a little drunk too.”

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug. Fooled by its sweetness, she’d had three pomegranate martinis on a nearly empty stomach. “Now open.”

Mulder shakes his head. “I like it out here.”

Scully sighs and reaches into his pocket for the house keys. His eyebrows travel to his hairline as he steps forward, pressing his body against hers.

“Scully?” He leans down, his nose brushing her temple. “Were you trying to frisk me?”

“I was trying to get inside,” she says, taking a step backwards to put some distance between them. It only serves to trap her between Mulder and the door. “It’s freezing.”

“Don’t worry.” He smiles and kisses the corner of her mouth. “I’ll keep you warm.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mulder taking care of sick Scully

“I’m not sick,” Scully says, her words punctuated by a fit of coughing. She glares at him through the mirror as she applies concealer to the dark circles under her eyes. Makeup does little to improve their appearance.  **  
**

“Dana Scully.” He moves closer, places his hands on her shoulders. “You’re sick.”

After five sneezes, she steps away from him. “I’m a medical doctor, Mulder,” she says, arms folded across her chest. “And I’m not sick.”

“You can always tell a cobbler by his shoes,” he mutters with a half-amused, half-exasperated shake of his head.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

Mulder hands her a box of tissues and a bottle of DayQuil. “It means you’re calling in.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scully asking Mulder to be her IVF donor

He shows up with a bag of Chinese food in his hand and a six-pack of Corona under his arm. Scully makes a face at the grease seeping through the paper as she takes it.

“Dragon Court,” he says, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot. It’s one of the nicest take out places he frequents; that should excuse how unhealthy everything he brought is. 

“Next time I get the food,” she says and he shrugs. Scully’s never happy with his restaurant choices anyway. 

They sit on the floor and eat Kung Pao chicken and pork fried rice straight out of the containers. Dr. Strangelove is on TMC but neither pays much attention. Instead, they discuss bits of harmless office gossip: the new but still faulty coffee maker, Skinner’s workout routine, his silly car park conspiracy theory.

“I saw my doctor Monday,” she tells him casually as the movie fades into the credits. Her eyes are fixed on the television screen, fingers picking at the label of a lukewarm beer on the coffee table.

A sliver of fear rolls down his spine. He remembers the dark circles under Scully’s eyes and her protruding collarbones; he thinks of cold hospital rooms and sterile hallways, of cancer and the looming threat of death. “You okay?” He tries to conceal some of his uneasiness with a smile that’s closer to a grimace.

“I’m fine, Mulder.” Her hand goes to the back of her neck, to the spot where the chip that might or might not have saved her is embedded. “More than fine.”

The pressure in his chest relents; he feels lighter now and reaches for her hand, squeezing her fingers. “Good.”

“I asked her to run some tests.”  She takes an audible breath. “She said there’s a possibility I could conceive.”

“Wow,” he breathes. “A baby.”

“Yes.” Scully laughs and wipes at tears that weren’t there a moment ago. “A baby.”

Images of a pregnant Scully eating Cherry Garcia from the tub rush to his mind and he’s overcome by happiness for her. She could have a son or daughter, she could have the family she deserves.

“It’s a longshot,” she says after they’ve been quiet for too long.

“It’s still a shot,” he replies easily, still holding her hand in his.

She takes an audible breath. “I know this is a lot to ask and I don’t need an answer right away.” Her voice is steady but there’s a hint of apprehension to her words. “I’ll need a donor, Mulder, and I want it to be you.”

His mouth feels dry, cottony almost, and his heart thumps in his chest as the pictures in his mind change from a pregnant Scully to a little girl with her hair and his eyes. He didn’t know he could feel so excited, so honoured, so grateful.

He brings her hands to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “I hope it has your nose.” 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said under the stars and in the grass

“Come inside,” Scully says and proffers her hand. He shakes his head because it’s warm and it’s not so late and he wants to be outside for longer. There’s a perfect spot just outside the house where he can sit for hours and not think and watch the sky.

Mulder pats the empty space beside him and looks up at her, long hair up in a loose ponytail and arms folded across her chest. “No,” she tells him but sits down anyway, her thigh brushing his as she settles by his side on the damp grass.

(Moonlight, he thinks, matches her pale skin, goes well with the freckles across her nose and cheeks.)

He feels her shift beside him, feels her chin dig into his shoulder blade and her breath on his neck. “Do you miss it?” 

“What?” He asks, more out of reflex than wonder because Mulder knows exactly what she means. Dank motel rooms in the middle of nowhere and long drives through nondescript places, each day different than the last. “Yeah.” He does miss it, even in moments like this –the quiet ones he now lives and longs for– but wouldn’t want that life again, not when they finally have a home. “Do you?”

She’s quiet for a long time and it’s all night sounds: an owl, a cricket, the rustle of leaves and Scully’s steady breathing. 

“Parts of it,” she finally says and he’s only half-surprised. Mulder wants to know what she misses most of chasing after ghosts and running from men but doesn’t ask because it doesn’t matter, not with Scully by his side under the night sky. 

Her hand is flat against his chest, up on the right and away from his heart, and he covers it with his. “Let’s go inside.” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

The central heating is damaged and the firewood damp so they spend their first night in their new house huddled in big sweaters and ugly blankets. It’s freezing but they’re no longer on the run, they’re home and they’re together.

 _This is ridiculous,_  Scully thinks when she wakes up for the fourth time, the cold digging past her bones and seeping into her marrow. It’s ridiculous and it’s wonderful and her laughter sounds like thunder in the stillness of the room. Mulder turns on the bedside light and he looks at her like she’s suddenly gone insane, like she looks at him when he theorises.

“I’m cold,” she says and he shifts closer, drapes an arm around her waist and presses their cheeks together. Mulder doesn’t speak but she feels his lips curve against her skin.

It’s February and the ground is covered in a thick layer of snow but she can already smell the grass and she can already see the flowers.

“Mulder?” He stirs and makes a sleepy noise somewhere deep in his throat. “We should have a garden.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you didn't say at all

She accepts a steaming mug of tea –the sort she now keeps in his cupboard, between the coffee and the table salt– and pretends plum can drown the scent of fear and flowers and death.

“Sleep okay?” Mulder’s hair is still damp from his shower and she follows the path of water down his neck, watches drops disappear into the smattering of hair across his chest.

Scully wants to tell him that she barely slept at all, that she dreamt of candle wax and hot baths, of Donnie Pfaster’s blood on her carpet and his body by her sofa. She wants to tell him she’s still afraid, that she thinks she will always be afraid but he words feel like sand in the back of her mouth so she nods instead.

“Yeah,” she says and lowers her gaze. “Thanks.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> post-iwtb holiday.

It’s just past three and the sun is harsh, too harsh for her skin but she doesn’t have time to worry about freckles or redness or ageing. Sand –the whitest, brightest sand she’s ever seen– is hot between her toes and Mulder’s chest is solid and damp against her bare back.

“I think I’m drunk.” He sounds too serious, as if they weren’t having drinks with umbrellas on the beach. When she stretches her neck to look at him, eyebrow raised, there’s a grin on his face.

Scully nods and turns away, she stares at her feet, half-buried in white sand, to hide her own smile. Four hours spent sipping rum punches and daiquiris and she’s just as drunk but doesn’t say so. Instead, she suggests they take a nap.

(And it’s so strange that they can get drunk and sleep in the middle of the day. It’s so strange that they can be together and not be afraid.)

He nearly falls as they walk to their tiny villa. Scully laughs and links their arms at the elbow, pretends she could steady him if he stumbles again.

Inside, it’s warm and she can smell the ocean. Mulder jumps on the bed, atop the orange duvet, his swimsuit shorts still on. She sighs because he’s going to get sand on the sheets but lies down beside him anyway.

“Scully?” He runs his fingers through her damp hair and kisses the base of her neck. His other hand is splayed across her ribs, over seawater sticky skin. “You’re drunk too.”

“I’m not drunk,” she says and tries to sound indignant but he’s already asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when you were crying

It’s Sunday and she should be rearranging the living room and blowing up balloons while Mulder runs late picking up the cake. She can almost see it, UFO shaped with  _happy birthday earthling_  written across bright green fondant. It’d be perfect so it wouldn’t matter how many times she asked for round and blue and white.

William is six today but it’s just the two of them –always just Mulder and Scully– at the kitchen table, tepid coffee in their mugs and a slump to their shoulders. She reaches for Mulder’s hand and wills away thoughts of presents and laughter and family pictures.

It’s Sunday and there are no patients to distract her. It’s Sunday and there’s nothing to celebrate.

She purses her lips and straightens her spine but the tears fall anyway. “I miss our son.”


End file.
